For a little while, Spike remained in the shadows, out of sight of the human, but close enough that Buffy must have known he was there.  He wasn’t afraid of the damn man, but he had a hunch that things would be much smoother if the guy never heard about him and Buffy.  If he was in town for the high school business, then he would be gone soon, and that would be the end of it.  Not that it was easy to leave his lady talking with her ex.  It wasn’t pleasant at all, more like slow torture.  The last time the wanker had been in town, half of Spike’s crypt had been blown up, and Buffy had decided to break up their relationship.  He strongly suspected that seeing him had played a large role in the break up part, though they had never talked about it.  Repeating to himself that it would just be easier for everybody if he remained out of the talk, Spike paced silently, not one of their words escaping his acute hearing.  But when the wanker asked her if she had anyone in her life, it sounded way too much like he was scouting the field before trying to win her back.  He decided the game had lasted long enough, and walked out of the shadows.

Ignoring the idiot and his crossbow, Spike went straight to his Slayer, encircling her with both arms.  He voiced his claim, and his smirk became a little less forced at the look on Riley’s face.  He seemed ready to have a heart attack.  It became even better when his Mate, instead of throwing him the half amused, half scolding glare she always gave him when he pulled that move in front of Angel, relaxed ever so slightly against him, declaring softly to her wide-eyed ex:

“Spike and I are getting married.”

But then, the boy did something completely unexpected that put an end to Spike’s fun.  He laughed.  And a sudden desire to rip out his entrails sneaked into the vampire’s mind.

“I heard that one before”, Riley managed to say.  “Did Willow play with magic again?  She really should…”

Spike’s menacing growl interrupted him, and if not for Buffy’s hands holding his arms in place the vampire would have taught this pathetic excuse for a man a good lesson.

“It’s not a spell,” Buffy said coolly.  “We’ve been together for three years.”

Oh, Iowa wasn’t laughing anymore.  Scowling was more like it, now.  And something much too close to disgust for the boy’s own good.

“Sleeping with a neutered vampire, that was pitiful enough”, he spat.  “But actually thinking about spending…”

“The neutered vampire is going to show a thing or two to the impotent kid,” Spike hissed, getting very close to shifting to game face and lunging at the arrogant piece of military garbage.

The idiot actually took a step forward, as if daring Spike to make a move. It was easy for him to be bold when he thought his opponent couldn’t lay a hand on him. But he might quickly have a nasty surprise…

“Unless you want a taste of Slayer strength,” Buffy interrupted him, “I suggest you stop right there.  Since obviously you can’t show the barest politeness, I think you’d better leave, Riley.  As in, leave Sunnydale. And take all your boys with you.  The last thing we need is another Initiative.”

With a last defiant look at Spike, and an almost pitying one at Buffy that renewed Spike’s anger, the boy walked away.  Until he was out of sight, Buffy’s hands kept their tight grip on her Mate’s arms, as if afraid he would let go of her to run after the other.  Finally, she turned into his embrace and gave him a hug and a quick kiss.

“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile.

“What for?” he growled, a bit annoyed that the boy had left without receiving what he deserved for talking to Buffy like that.

“For controlling yourself.  You wanted to show him the chip is gone, uh?”

Spike forced out a quiet chuckle and held her tighter.  For a moment, they just clung to each other.  The day had started very well, but things had been getting worse ever since the sun had set.  The thought came to him that all they needed now was Harmony to come whining and they would have confronted all their exes.  Shivering, he winced internally.  Thinking of Drusilla still hurt somewhat.  At least Iowa hadn’t really tried to kill either of them.  Though he might have tried to off Spike if Buffy hadn’t been there.  That could have been an interesting long due fight.

“Up for patrol, luv?” he murmured against her ear.  “I could use a spot of violence, how about you?”

She let out a small, sad laugh and they were soon walking side by side, quiet as they listened for any unnatural noises.  Sometimes, most of the time, they bantered as they patrolled, made bets as to who would dust a vamp first, who would dust the most in the night, who could run fastest to a certain point.  But tonight, they were silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

Without thinking, Spike pulled out the pack of cigarettes and the cheap lighter he had bought on his way to the cemetery, earning a glare from Buffy as he lit one.

“I thought you had quit smoking,” she said, disapprovingly.

“You taking my fags isn’t exactly what I’d call quitting”, he pointed out.

He took a long drag on the cigarette, his first since…  Let’s see.  If he concentrated, he was sure he could remember when his last nicotine fix had been.  Patrol.  The night they had been made human.  Was it only eleven days ago?  It seemed like forever.

“You didn’t complain that I had taken them,” Buffy protested.  “You didn’t even mention cigarettes at all while you were human.”

He almost felt like chuckling.  Almost.

“’Was too busy brooding to think about fags.  And I’m not bloody idiot, luv.  If these things could kill vampires as they do humans, I wouldn’t smoke.  But as it is, they’re harmless to me, so what’s the point of quitting?”

They bickered about it for a little while, a habitual argument between them, and it was comforting to fall back on old patterns.  In the end, she won, as she always did, by proving to him there were much nicer things to do with his mouth.  Kissing her, for one.

* * * * *

They patrolled until late in the night, despite the blatant lack of nasties to slay.  At some point, Spike started commenting about how Europe was nice at this time of the year.  With the end of summer, he was saying, tourists were going back home, which made it the perfect time to appreciate the big cities as well as the smallish towns.  She listened as he described some of the places he wanted to show her, not pointing out that whenever he had last been there he had probably been more interested by the local food than by the scenery.

It was tempting, really, to just leave this cursed town, its Hellmouth and demons, and to tour the world like they didn’t have a care.  Of course, they would be short on money pretty quick.  But that wasn’t why Buffy couldn’t let herself agree.  However hellish Sunnydale was, it was still her home.  Her responsibility.  She knew she’d never be able to enjoy a trip if it meant leaving her turf unattended, and her worry would ruin Spike’s fun too.  He argued to her that Manon was there, that she could take care of it all for a little while with the gang’s help, but even he didn’t sound very convinced as he said that.  After all, a few hours before, the kid had almost died.  She had just been called, and needed more training.  And she was so young, too young for such a heavy burden to be imposed to her.

It was a little after three in the morning that they arrived home.  Buffy was surprised, and grateful, to find bagged blood in the fridge as she was putting there what she and Spike had bought on their way back at a butcher that catered to ‘special needs’ citizens.  She wondered briefly who had had the idea to stock them up, and decided it must have been Giles.  She made a mental note to thank him the next day, which might give her the occasion to see if he had really accepted the news as the thoughtful gesture led her to believe.

She found something else in the kitchen.  Taped to the microwave’s door, where Dawn had been sure she would see it, was a note in the teen’s untidy handwriting.

“I’m going to LA with Steven for a few days until school begins.  I’ll call you when I need a ride back.  We waited for you until midnight, but Angel wouldn’t wait any longer.”

Pretty short and to the point.  Dawn had fled.  At least she wasn’t far, nor was she alone.  Buffy wondered for a while what she had waited for.  To give another round of tears?  To let it sink it just a little better what a bad sister Buffy was?

She stared at the few lines as she sipped on her warmed blood, until Spike took the paper from her, tucking it into his jeans pocket.

“She would have gone even without our little change,” he said softly.  “You know that.  Bit and Steven are just inseparable now.”

Buffy nodded, though she doubted he was right.  Her sister was upset, and she had decided that avoidance was the best way to go.  She could run all she wanted, she’d need to come back eventually, and Buffy and Spike would still be vamps then.

As she finished her snack, Spike threaded his fingers with hers and led her upstairs.  He paused for the slightest second by the guestroom’s door; his head tilted, and mouthed the word ‘Watcher’ to her.  Giles, at least, hadn’t fled.  Though he would be departing for England pretty soon with Andrea.  Would they still leave Manon with her and Spike when they left?  The woman Watcher had always shown more than a bit of reluctance bordering on suspicion whenever she was around Spike, until he became human.  She would probably be back to her old manners now.

By the flames of a few hastily lit candles, she let Spike undress her, with slow and caressing moves, like they had all the time in the world, which they did after all.  Then he made her lie on the bed on her stomach, and, settling by her side, began rubbing, kneading and massaging her back and shoulders.  His strong but soft hands, as well as the quiet words that fell from his lips, soothed away the tension that the meeting at the Magic Box, the encounter with Riley and Dawn’s departure had created.  After a while, she fell asleep, aware of nothing save the comforting touch of her Mate.

As was usual for him, Spike woke up early.  For a long time however, he remained in bed, his body molded to Buffy’s, listening to the irregular breaths she took, thinking.  He had been as disappointed, as hurt, as her by the Scoobies’ reaction.  Then, meeting the other poof and not giving him the beating Spike had been saving for him for so long had been unnerving, to say the least.  The only good part had been to hear his Slayer announce to her ex that they were getting married.  That had been truly priceless.  But as a whole, this town and its inhabitants were getting on his nerves, and he was truly itching to leave, at least for a while.  Never before in his unlife had he stayed in the same place for so long.  He tried to list the reasons why he was staying, and there was frankly only one.  Buffy.  Even the Bit was a woman now, and she didn’t need him or her sister.  But as he had had a confirmation just the night before, his Slayer’s ties to Sunnyhell were much stronger than his.  She didn’t want to leave, and he wouldn’t, couldn’t leave without her.

He couldn’t live without his Childe and Mate.  Couldn’t bear being away from the woman who was his kind’s greatest fear, and who was now his fiancée and soon to be wife.  He didn’t know if he would ever have proposed to her if they hadn’t turned to their human selves for a while.  He probably would have, some day, but not so soon.  Not that he had any doubts about marrying her; he just had never given much thought to it all.  It simply was not something vampires did.  Of course, vampires didn’t fight the good fight either.  Normal vampires didn’t live in cozy, sunlight-proofed houses, they didn’t have day jobs, they didn’t take college classes, didn’t care for a teenage kid, didn’t patrol at night to dust their fellow vamps.  But then, he had always been anything but a normal vamp, even when he was on the other side of the fight.  And Buffy, the vamped vampire Slayer with a soul, wasn’t the epitome of normality either.  Which was just fine as far as he was concerned.

With a quiet and content smile, he placed the softest kiss on the shoulder of his sleeping Buffy, and eased out of the bed.  As he walked into the bathroom, he surprised himself by throwing a glance at the mirror above the sink.  The mirror that he had broken a few days before because he couldn’t stand the sight of himself, and that they had replaced since.  He almost expected to see his reflection, but of course the glass remained blank.  She had taken such good care of him, he mused, thinking back on how she had reached to him through the voices and pain.  In a hundred lifetimes he didn’t think he would ever be able to repay her for it.  But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

He took a quick shower, scrubbing the gel out of his hair and leaving it in soft curls as he dried it.  Buffy had commented she liked it that way.  And there was no denying it; he was completely, utterly, and hopelessly whipped.

Sauntering down to the kitchen, he found a tired looking Giles sipping on a cup of tea.  The silence in the room was heavy as Spike warmed up some blood in the microwave.

“I apologize about yesterday,” the Watcher said finally.  “Neither I nor the others wanted to be unsupportive.  We were just… surprised.  We didn’t expect…”

“Save it for Buffy”, Spike interrupted him.  “She’s the one who needs to hear it.  I don’t care what you bleeding lot think.”

The human seemed ready to add something, but he busied himself with his cup instead.  For a few minutes, Spike observed him from the corner of his eye, wondering, despite his denial, whether the apology had been sincere or only a reply to his tirade after Buffy’s departure the night before.

“Still leaving the kid here while you go to merry olde England?”  Spike asked after he had finished his blood.

Giles raised a questioning eyebrow at him.  “Well, yes.  Unless there’s a problem?”

“I thought the problem was on your side,” Spike replied, shrugging.  “Watcher-girl isn’t very fond of vamps, and least of all of yours truly.  Kind of surprised she wants to leave her precious baby Slayer in my home.”

“After what you did for Manon,” Giles said with a small smile, “I believe Andrea changed her mind about you.”

“After what I did for Manon?”  Spike repeated, dumbfounded.

“Cordelia told us you traded your life…”

The Watcher’s voice trailed off as Spike’s expression grew sour with his words.

“I am going to kill that bloody girl,” he growled angrily.

Which brought the question, how does one kill an angel?  In another time, he might have had fun searching for the answer to that question, experimenting.  Now, of course, the threat was empty, he knew it just as well as the Watcher.

“Why are you upset?”  Giles asked, obviously surprised.  “Because she told us?  At least now we understand why…”

“It was my business!”  Spike interrupted him.  “She had no right blabbering about it in front of…  Who knows exactly?”

By the sharp intake of breath Giles took, Spike guessed that his eyes must have been flashing gold.  The man was used to the vampire by now, he trusted him enough to have found a way for him to get rid of the chip, but the glaring proof of his anger still managed to unsettle him.  For some weird reason, it was reassuring and disappointing all at once.

“Everybody.  We were all there.  Right after you left the shop.”

A familiar curse escaped Spike’s lips and he pressed them tightly together to stop the rant he could feel coming up.  He wasn’t going to kill Cordelia, but he would have a few chosen words with her at the first occasion.

“Don’t tell the kid,” he said after a few seconds, catching Giles’ gaze.

The Watcher looked like he was about to question the request, but in the end he just nodded.

“Talking about Manon,” Giles said as he got to his feet, “it’s time for me to go get her.  Do you mind if I… uh, borrow your car?”

As he threw the keys to the human, Spike was about to warn him about damaging it, when he remembered that Dawn had scrapped all the black paint off the windows a few days ago, making the vehicle safer by human standards, but not so much for vampires.  He grunted his warning anyway when the Watcher left, just on principle, and thought about making his way to the basement.  He was sure he had some paint stored away somewhere down there.  Then a better idea came to him.  Call the stupid bint, like he had done on the roof of that damn hospital, and let her know exactly what he thought of her opening her big mouth about stuff that concerned no one but him.

He was about to do just that when Buffy appeared in the doorway, hair delightfully mussed, eyes sleepy, wearing nothing but one of his shirts.  Cordelia, her indiscretion, Giles, his car and Manon instantly disappeared from his thoughts.  In three steps, he had her in his arms, the next second their lips met, and his mind was all Buffy’s for quite a while after that.

* * * * *

Manon was literally bouncing up and down as she got out of the car and followed the two Watchers toward the house.  She had been stuck a day and half in a bed, with the doctors refusing her any visits apart from her unlikely ‘parents’.  They had been so astonished by her rapid recovery that they had done an incredible number of tests on her, each result leaving them more baffled than before.  They had stopped when Andrea had pointed out she had not agreed to any tests being done on her ‘daughter’, which had left Manon with absolutely nothing to distract herself.  She was sure she could have left he hospital the day before, but both the Watchers and doctors and insisted that she stay there a little more, just in case.  In case of what, she had no clue.  Slayer healing had kicked in, that was the end of the story as far as she was concerned.

The entrance door opened just as they reached it, and two blondes smiled at them, at her, inviting the visitors to come in.  She was pretty happy she was going to stay with Buffy and Spike; she had a suspicion that they were far less nagging about rules than Andrea was.

Now familiar tingles down her spine had her take a second look at the couple.  They noticed her questioning look immediately.

“Nothing escapes you,” Buffy said with a forced smile.

“I thought you were going to stay human?” she asked, puzzled.

“They decided to be vampires again,” Giles said quietly.

Manon noticed the weird look that passed between the man and his Slayer, and wondered what she had missed while stuck at the hospital.  What surprised her most wasn’t so much that they were vampires, but rather that Andrea, who, judging by her calm, had known about that little detail beforehand, was agreeing to her staying with them.

“Any problem with that, kid?”  Spike questioned, a scared eyebrow rising just a little.

“No problem,” she said with a small shrug, trying to avoid looking directly at the too blue eyes.  “If that’s what you wanted, good for you.”

Again, there seemed to be electricity in the air, and the tension was almost palpable between Giles and the vampires.

“Spike, would you show Manon to her room?”  Buffy asked suddenly.  “I’ll fix her a snack.  I seem to remember the hospital food is depressingly bad.”

The male vampire took Manon’s suitcase from Giles and started up the steps, throwing a quick glance back at Manon when she didn’t immediately follow.  Blushing slightly, she caught up with him.  She had been wondering what was wrong between Buffy and her Watcher, and would have given a lot to be able to hear what was going to take place downstairs.

She followed Spike into what he called the guestroom, and as he placed her suitcase on the obviously freshly made bed he suggested that she put her things away immediately.

“So that they can have some time to talk?” she commented with a grin as she started pulling out her clothes.

He chuckled softly.  “That’s the idea, yeah.”

He was leaning against the doorframe, watching her as she moved around the room.  She could feel her cheeks start to burn under his gaze, and every now and then she looked at him from the corner of her eye.  Did he have any idea at all how adorable he looked with the platinum curls falling free instead of gelled back?  She needed to find something to say, quickly, before he noticed how nervous being alone with him was making her.

“So, hmmm, Dawn’s room is next door?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Yes,” he replied absently.  “She’s not here, though.  She went to LA for a few days.”

He paused just a second, then added: “I’ll go see if your snack is ready, OK?”

She nodded, and already he was gone.  She frowned at her suitcase, more than half empty already, and decided that the rest could wait for later.  There were potentially much more exciting things going on downstairs.  As silently as she could, she went down the steps, wincing when one creaked lightly, and sat on the bottom one.  She could hear them talking in the kitchen, but they couldn’t see her.  As she had thought, things quickly became very interesting.

With a quick glance at the retreating backs of Manon and Spike, Buffy walked into the kitchen.  It was only the middle of morning, so she decided that breakfast food would be appropriate for the young Slayer.  She was soon joined by Giles and Andrea.

“Did you get the blood for us?” she asked with a carefully inexpressive voice.

Giles sat on a stool at the kitchen island and watched her gather various things from the fridge and cupboards.  Not knowing what Manon liked, she was betting on variety to satisfy her.  Andrea was by the entrance, arms crossed, her expression peaceful.

“Yes,” he replied quietly.  “I thought maybe you wouldn’t find any place still open after your patrol.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, catching his gaze for a brief instant.

The kitchen was silent during a few seconds, until they both started talking at the same time.

“Buffy, I wanted to…”

“Does it mean…”

They both stopped and shared a small smile.

“You go first,” Buffy suggested, hoping that he would answer her question before she even had to ask it.

He nodded and motioned for her to sit down across from him, waiting until she did to speak.

“I wanted to say I am truly sorry about yesterday,” he said as he rested his hand on top of one of hers on the table.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.  None of us did.  We were really surprised, and our reaction certainly wasn’t what it should have been.  Your choices are your own, Buffy.  All that matters to me, to us, is that they make you happy.”

There was the slightest questioning in his voice, and she nodded imperceptibly.

“I am happy.”

He smiled at her, a real, sincere smile.  “Then it is all I need to know.  Please believe that I’ll always be there for you no matter what.  As will your friends.”

Fighting the tears of relief that were clouding her eyes, Buffy placed her hand on Giles, squeezing it softly.

“I would tell you two to hug now that you’ve made up,” Spike said lightly as he entered the kitchen, “but I think I prefer doing that myself”.

True to his words, he walked around the island and hugged Buffy from behind, nuzzling her neck briefly, and she instinctively leaned back against him.

“So, when are you leaving for the mother country?”  Spike asked Giles, his chin resting on Buffy’s shoulder.

“We’ll be leaving for the airport soon.  We’ll take a cab to get there.”

And once again, Buffy thought to herself, Giles is leaving.  It was really becoming a habit with him.  Of course, his life was in England now, but it was nice to have him around.

“What will you tell the Council?”  Buffy questioned quietly.

Andrea stepped closer to them, leaning against the counter by Giles’ side.

“We’ll do what should have been done a while ago,” she said with a fierce glint in her eyes“, and get my father removed from his position.”

Buffy’s esteem score for the woman suddenly grew exponentially and she couldn’t help grinning.  Maybe if she asked nicely they could take pictures of Quentin Travers’ face when they destroyed his comfortable empire…

“That’s one thing”, Giles acquiesced.  “They will ask about the near-apocalypse, of course.  And then there’s the matter of Manon and the new Slayer that was called.  We have a lot to discuss.”

“One thing you’d better not discuss is why we are vampires again,” Spike warned with a soft growl.  “The Council of wankers doesn’t need to know anything about that.”

Slightly puzzled, Buffy tilted her head to look at Spike.  He had said before the meeting he didn’t want to tell the Scoobies about his reason, but from his words it sounded like he had.

“You told them?” she asked him.

“I bloody well did not.”

“Cordelia did”, Giles intervened.  “She explained to us how Spike’s sacrifice saved Manon’s life.  And we guessed that you decided to do the same thing so that you could be together without aging coming between the two of you.  Were we right?”

The softness of Giles’ words made up for the indiscretion of his question.  But it slightly bothered Buffy.

“Something like that,” she replied, unwilling to discuss the fine points of being a Mate and Childe with him.  “Is that why you finally accepted my decision?  Because it all started from saving Manon?”

Giles shook his head.  “No, dear.  Knowing the reason is certainly nice, but, as I told you, all that matters is that it’s your choice and it brings you happiness.  The details of how or why are not important.”

The knot in her stomach that had formed an instant earlier disappeared, as Buffy understood that Giles was being truthful.  He would be there for her, as he had always been every time she had needed him.

There were footfalls from the hall and Manon walked in the kitchen.  She had a pensive look on her face, and Buffy almost asked her if everything was alright.  Instead, she motioned for her to take a seat and help herself from the food gathered on the table.  She sat down with a quiet ‘merci’, not looking up at her.

“I suppose Manon could resume her training in a few days,” Andrea said thoughtfully.  “After a little more rest.”

“I’m fine now,” Manon protested halfheartedly.  “Slayer healing is just a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

There were vague murmurs of assent around the table.  Buffy realized she had been staring at the teenager as she munched on some toasted bread, and made herself look at Giles instead.

“Remember what Xander said about the military having a party over the high school grounds?  We met Riley on patrol last night.  He questioned me about what happened there.”

“Did you tell him?” her Watcher asked, a small frown creasing his foreead.

“Not in detail.  I just told him there was a battle, nothing more.”

“Who is this person?”  Andrea inquired curiously.

“A military group was experimenting on Sunnydale’s demon population a few years back,” Giles explained, briefly glancing at Spike as he did so.  “Riley Finn was one of them.  He joined the Scoobies for a while, before returning to regular duty.  He knows about Slayers.”

“You forgot to mention he is a perfect wanker who deserves to have his white bread ass kicked all the way back to his bleeding Iowa,” Spike added, deadpan.

Buffy threw an amused glance at him over her shoulder, and was surprised by the cold anger in the blue depths of his gaze.  She realized that Giles’ brief explanation must have made Spike think of how the Initiative had been experimenting on him.  Covering the arms around her waist with her own, she caressed him lightly, soothingly, wishing they were alone so that she could calm him better.

“Does he know you’re a vampire?”  Giles questioned suddenly, ignoring Spike’s intervention.

“No, I don’t think so”, Buffy said with a brief frown.  She hadn’t even thought of that until now.  She supposed he would have said something if he had known.

“And he won’t find out if we can help it”, Spike completed, his voice fiercely determined.

Buffy wondered how likely it was that they would keep this a secret forever.  It was sheer luck only that they had hidden it successfully from the demon world so far.  All it would take for Riley to know would be a look through these nifty binoculars that told about body temperature, and it would be quickly clear that she was not one degree warmer than the ambient air.  Hopefully, he would leave town as soon as the high school was cleared out, which shouldn’t take long at all.  She felt strangely reluctant at having him know of her vampire status.  Not that she was ashamed, or even afraid for her own security.  She was simply anxious that he might try to hurt Spike if he discovered that he was her Sire.

After a few more caution recommendations, Giles called for a cab, and it was time for goodbyes.  With the certitude that her Watcher accepted her decision and had promised her his support, it wasn’t too hard to let him go this time.  He assured her he would call and let them know how things were going with the Council, and soon he and Andrea were gone, leaving Buffy with her vampire love and Slayer sister.  Spike looked at her and Manon with a wolfish grin.

“Now that fun-spoiler Watchers are gone,” he said, “who’s up for a bit of sparring?”

* * * * *

The video relay had just been installed and tested, and his superiors would be calling soon.  Through the large bay window that constituted a whole wall of his office, Riley watched the activity beyond the sound proof, one-way mirror, aware that no one on the other side could see in.  The base was practically operational, with a few last minutes adjustments being made.  On a much smaller scale than the Initiative.  Much more discreet too, hopefully.  All they had to do was catch HST’s, and send them off to the mother base where the studies were being conducted.  Nothing very hard, really, as long as they didn’t repeat the mistakes of the Initiative.  And he was there to make sure of that.  It was the first time he was in charge of a complete operation, and he was determined that nothing would go wrong.

The familiar face of his boss finally appeared on the video monitors, and he gave a salute as perfect as if the man had been in front of him.

“I am listening, Agent Finn.”

“As we thought, what happened at the high school was linked to the Hellmouth and the Slayer.”

“Did you interrogate the girl?  What’s her name again…?  Betty Summers?”

“Buffy, Sir.  I initiated contact with her, but she wasn’t very forthcoming.  It appears she is under vampire thrall.  From the same hostile we were looking for, actually.”

“Interesting.  That would mean the chip allows him to enthrall people.  We will need to study that, too.  When do you plan his removal?”

“In a few days, Sir.  I want to study their habits and schedules to make it as safe as possible.  I believe as soon as the subject is removed and the thrall dissipates, the Slayer will be more cooperative.”

“Well, that would be good, but not necessary.  Your priority right now is to make sure she doesn’t meddle with our business.  And if that means removing her, too, then you know what to do.”

“Yes Sir.  But with all due respect, I am sure we won’t need to get to that.”

“I’ll leave you sole judge to decide of it for now, Agent Finn.  But I expect regular reports about the situation.”
 

Nervously running one hand over the fabric of her knee-length skirt, Andrea glanced at the man by her side.  It was funny, really, how quickly they had both discarded the relaxed clothes they had been wearing in California to the benefit of tweed and, well, tweed.  Old habits died hard, as the saying went.  But it wasn’t just a question of habit.  They had both slipped in their Watchers’ costumes to leave no doubt in the minds of the persons they would be addressing that they were Watchers, in heart if not in title for Giles, and despite the revolutionary ideas they were going to voice.

The guards at the entrance door hesitated for an instant when they requested access, as Rupert Giles was obviously on their list of personae non gratae.  But a quiet reminder from Andrea of what exactly her last name was had convinced them that the ex-Watcher could be admitted as a guest under her responsibility.

The Headquarters of the Council, in the very center of London, was housed in the five stories of what had been, a couple of centuries before, one of the mansions belonging to a true blue-blood British family.  This family had been quite grateful for the quiet (and scandal-free) help the Council had provided concerning one of its recently deceased, but more undead than dead members.  The building had been a token of thanks – and a bribe to keep silent about this sad matter.

Many rooms, in this old edifice.  Many, many books.  And a surprisingly high number of Watchers.  Well, surprising for anyone but Andrea and Rupert.  The first thing they had done, upon arriving in London, had been to contact as many Watchers as possible, inside as well as outside the country.  They had only told them that something very, very big was happening, and to show up on this day and time at the HQ for the complete details.  Instead of following Andrea straight to the fifth floor, where Quentin Travers’ office, as well as those of the highest ranking Watchers and the conference rooms, were located, Rupert wandered from room to room, alerting everybody he saw that the main event would be taking place soon on the top floor.

Andrea’s hand, closed over a heavy briefcase’s handle, was a bit slippery as she stepped out of the elevator and made her way on the thick carpets toward her father’s office.  Rupert had agreed with her to give one chance to the head of the Council to get out of all of this of his own choice, with his reputation intact.  They both doubted he would use that opportunity, but it seemed fair to them both.

As she was about to knock, the office door opened abruptly in front of her, and two members of the High Council walked out, glaring at her, and hurried away.  Shrugging, she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“Why did you bring him here?”  Quentin Travers asked her immediately, his tone harsh.

He was sitting in that imposing chair that she privately called his throne, hands spread out on the desk in front of him, dark eyes made even darker by irritation.

“It is nice to see you too, father,” she said, a bit sarcastically.  “I suppose ‘him’ is Rupert Giles?”

She approached the desk but did not sit down.  She knew by experience that the uncomfortable guest chairs were designed to make visitors fidget and to look up at the slightly elevated desk and its owner.  She placed her briefcase on the chair she was standing next to, and her now free hand slipped into her jacket’s pocket.  As her rhetorical question received no answer, she made her offer, looking at the man squarely, as if he was neither the most powerful man in the building nor her father.

“You have a choice, sir, but not much time to decide, I’m afraid.  You can come out of this room and immediately present your resignation, or Mr. Giles and I will convince the Council that you should be replaced with the briefest delay possible.  In any case, I can assure you that you will not leave this building as the Head of the Council.”

The eyes of the aging man widened incredulously, and he shook his head slowly.

“I have tolerated many things from you that I wouldn’t have from other Watchers, because you are my blood.  But this…”

“It is because we are blood kin that you even have a choice, sir”, she interrupted him.  “But knowing that you intended to have a Slayer killed, when our very reason for existence is to help them, I cannot remain silent and sanction your actions.”

“Whoever told you that lied,” he said, too calmly.  “I never planned Faith’s death.  William the Bloody…”

“William the Bloody,” she interrupted him again, "is a truly fascinating man.  Full of surprises.  But then, so are you.  I’d be curious to know how you knew I was talking about Faith, and not about Buffy, for example.  She’s a vampire, after all, so why didn’t we ever try to suppress her?”

The mask of calm slowly disappeared, replaced by cold anger.  Anger against Andrea, Buffy, Faith or himself, the woman wasn’t quite sure.

“Buffy Summers may be a vampire,” he said icily, “but getting rid of her is not worth the risk of failing.  Faith had been lost to our cause for too long.  She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with us.  We needed a Slayer.  She had to die so that a new one could be Chosen.  Being in my seat is not always easy, but that particular decision wasn’t the hardest I ever made.”

Nodding slightly, Andrea gave the man in front of her a sad smile.

“And you just proved to me that I am making the right decision, sir.  I suppose you won’t be resigning?  I thought not.  Let’s go on with the show, then.”

Without even a last glance at the puzzled Head Watcher, she walked out of the office and went directly to what had once been a ballroom, but was now the largest conference room of the building.  She was aware that her father was behind her, but she ignored the sharp hiss of her name that came from him.  Trying to appear confident and serene, she moved through the crowd assembled in the ballroom and toward the podium where Rupert was engaged in an animated discussion with several members of the High Council.  She didn’t concern herself with that; she only needed to get the attention of everyone present.  Pulling a small digital recorder from her jacket’s pocket, she placed the device in front of a microphone after having made sure it was on.  Andrea caught the face of her father in front of the podium as she pressed the play button and could see his surprise and sudden horror as he understood what was happening.  His recorded voice filled the room, and everyone became quiet instantly, including the men arguing with Rupert behind her.

“…  Summers may be a vampire, but getting rid of her is not worth the risk of failing.  Faith had been lost to our cause for too long.  She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with us.  We needed a Slayer.  She had to die so that a new one could be Chosen.  Being in my seat is not always easy, but that particular decision wasn’t the hardest I ever made.”

Andrea stopped the recording.  For a few seconds, the silence in the room was complete.  Then Quentin Travers, after throwing a deadly glance at her, turned toward the Watchers behind him.

“We needed a Slayer,” he repeated coolly.  “The world needed a Slayer.  The war against evil never ceases, and it was a necessity for mankind’s safety that a new Slayer join the battle.”

“The world never needed Faith to be murdered,” Rupert enunciated in a slow but strong voice, walking a few steps to stand at Andrea’s side by the table.  “For one thing, whatever mistakes this young lady made, she paid for them.  For another, there has always been a fighting Slayer.  Buffy Summers may not be the current Slayer, she may not be working for the Council anymore, but she is still fighting that never-ending battle.  Three times she died, and still she remains standing between the Hellmouth and the rest of the world.”

There was a slight murmur in the room.  Buffy was quickly becoming a legend, one of the longest living Slayers and the only turned one to keep fighting the good fight.

“The world didn’t need a new Slayer, Sir,” Andrea said calmly, her eyes finding her father’s as he turned toward the podium.  “You needed one.  You wanted a toy to obey your wishes.  But Slayers are not toys for us to manipulate.  They are precious beings we are sworn to help.  And it is time for you, for us all, to remember it.”

Again, Quentin Travers faced the Watchers, as if searching for support on the shocked and reproachful faces in front of him.  There was some movement, and four men and three women came out of the crowd and climbed onto the podium, joining the two members of the High Council who were already there.  For a few seconds, they talked quietly, their whispers inaudible even in the still quiet ballroom.  Then they all came to stand by the table, and the oldest of them, a woman named Maryan McNeely, announced in a trembling voice:

“By unanimous decree of the High Council and as the Code allows it, Quentin Travers is now removed from his functions and banned from the Council of Watchers for the cause of high treason.”

A murmur ran through the room, and all eyes converged on the now ex-Watcher who still stood in front of the podium.  The few words of Maryan seemed to have taken away the grace that had always protected the man like a shield, and he suddenly seemed a little older, a little weaker, and a little smaller.  His gaze appeared to stray for a few seconds before finally settling on Andrea, and she shivered at how dead those eyes looked.

“Tu quoque”, he quoted in a whisper, before turning away and walking out through the parting crowd.

To her own surprise, Andrea felt a slight pinch to her heart.  She had no doubt she had done the right thing, but she also knew with the same certainty that she had just destroyed her father.  Another surprise came with Rupert’s hand gently taking hers, and from the comfort that simple touch brought her.

* * * * *

There were quite a few advantages to living in a real house rather than in a crypt, but as Spike saw it the greatest thing of all was the bathtub.  It might not be something that agreed with the bad boy image, but as far as he was concerned bubble baths, especially shared with a loving Slayer, were very much underrated in the demon world.

The tub was a bit uncomfortable against his back, but the softness pressed to the front of his body more than made up for it.  Buffy’s head was resting against his shoulder, his arms were around her, her fingers laced to his.  No caresses other than those of the bubbles, for once, as they sat, immobile, in the slowly cooling water.  Just a few shared moments of peace and quiet.  Just little bits of heaven.

“What time is it in England?”

“Say what, luv?”

He had been half falling asleep, relaxed by their earlier activities, the warm water and the comfort of having his lover against him, and wasn’t sure he had heard right.  Had she said England?

“You know, time zones and stuff?” she insisted.  “What time is it there now?”

Frowning slightly, he thought about her question for a second.

“Somewhere around 10 am, I think.  Why?”

“I was just thinking about Giles.  Wondering if he has done his little revolution yet.  What do you think?”

His frown deepened.  “You were thinking about Giles?” he asked with horror that wasn’t totally fake in his voice.  “You’re enjoying a bubble bath with the love of your unlife and you’re thinking about your Watcher?  I’m hurt, Slayer.”

She turned her head just enough to be able to kiss his chin.

“You wanna know what made me think of him?” she asked softly.

“Nope, don’t care”, he replied, still pouting.  “Want you to think of me.”

“I was thinking of you.  And that soon you and I will be married.  And that I hope Giles will be back by then.  Because that will be the happiest day of my life and I want everyone to share my happy day.”

Spike could have sworn he felt his heart give a beat at her quiet declaration.  He found her smiling lips for a soft and tender kiss.  Tenderness quickly became fire, tongues battled sensuously, and hands that had been still so far began to explore wet skin, teasing hardening nipples, stroking sensitive flesh.  The position, however, was awkward, and soon Spike broke the kiss, eliciting a protesting moan from Buffy.  Before she could complain any more, though, his lips were back to devouring hers in a bruising kiss.  But in that brief instant he had managed to stand and step out of the tub, holding Buffy closely, her legs and arms wrapped around him, his hardness trapped between them.  As he stumbled toward the bedroom, her mouth drifted from his lips, nibbling along his jaw and throat as she whispered huskily:

“Now.  Want you now.”

Closing the door behind them with his foot, Spike turned around to press her back against it, raising her body until his cock slipped between her moist curls, then letting her down just as he thrust in.  The first contact was intense, bruising, and brought out twin groans from the vampires.  The following strokes were just as forceful, the pace urgent as Spike tried to lose himself in his lover, to become one with her.  Her nails broke the skin of his back, and at the smell of blood he shifted to game face.  The nibbles he had been bestowing his marks on her neck became bites as his fangs pierced her flesh, and sweet nectar flowed into his mouth.  She let out a strangled shout, echoed by his as her inner muscles clenched and relaxed rapidly around him, pulling him even deeper inside her.  He managed to stop his thrusting, lapping tenderly at her neck as her quivering slowly subsided.  When he trusted himself with moving, he stepped away from the door, never breaking the intimate contact, and lowered her gently to the bed, covering her body with his.  She pulled his face to hers and her lips brushed his, followed by her tongue which slipped into his mouth and thrust slowly against his.  Following this slow pace, he started moving in her again, angling his hips to caress her clit with each stroke.  Now that the initial urgency was gone, he planned to make this last as long as possible.  After all, they had eternity in front of them.

* * * * *

Dressed as a civilian, with no weapons or high-tech devices apparent, the man could have been just anyone taking a night stroll through the park.  Except that most of Sunnydale’s inhabitants knew better than to go around at night in deserted places like this one.  Not completely deserted, though.  Two other shadows were slipping through the park, and so far they had two dusted vamps to their credit.  Usually there were three of them, but tonight one of the targets had separated from the others on the community college campus.  She wasn’t the primary target, however, and he had just followed the blonde vampire, keeping him barely in sight so as not to alert him.  He only hoped his superior would give the order for removal soon, because, even if he wasn’t alone on this mission of surveillance, observing the habits of Hostile 17 was quickly becoming boring.

* * * * *

Manon had been living with the two vampires for three days already, and until now she hadn’t gotten her chance to ask Spike exactly why he had given up humanity for her.  She had started to believe that Buffy didn’t want to leave them alone for too long, since the longest time until that night Manon had been alone with Spike had been a whole five minutes.  But then, tonight, the blonde Slayer had sent them off to patrol by themselves while she went to school to take an exam or something.  So they had left her in front of the college and been on their way to a nearby park.  They’d been patrolling for almost half an hour already, which left only an hour to Manon to find the courage to get the answer to the question that was torturing her.

The problem was, she didn’t know what to expect.  Right after she had overheard what he didn’t want her to know, she had begun almost hoping – and still felt slightly guilty about wishing something like this – that Spike didn’t really love Buffy, that it was just some vampire thing.  But after sleeping, or rather trying to sleep, a few yards away from their bedroom, she wasn’t so sure anymore.  Would they do what they were doing – and no, she wasn’t trying to imagine what it was exactly, not at all – so often if they weren’t in love?  Or maybe that was a vampire thing too.  She just needed to know.  And to know, she would need to ask.  Which meant breaking the silence they had both been observing since the beginning of patrol.

“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” she said a little hesitantly.

“What...?  Uh, yes, it is.”

He hadn’t called her kid.  Good point.  Now to the heart of the matter.  Or the matter of the heart.

“Do you…”

Do you truly love Buffy?  Do you love me?  Do you like me one itsy little bit?

“Do you want to sit for a while?”

Coward.

She half turned to him as they walked, hoping the darkness was hiding the rising flush in her cheeks.  She doubted it, though, because she could see him distinctly.  The features sculpted in marble, the questioningly arched eyebrow, the perpetual upturn of his lips.

“You OK, kid?  Feeling tired?”

Joy and disappointment brought by just five words.  He cared about her, but she was back to being a child in his eyes.  But then, who wouldn’t be compared to his own age?

“I’m not tired,” she said a bit too cheerfully.  “I just would like to sit down a while.  Enjoy the nice night.  Talk a little.”

Her voice had become a whisper on the last few words, but she had no doubt that he had heard.  The eyebrow was still questioning, but it seemed a bit puzzled too now.

“There’s a bench over there,” he said nonetheless, pointing somewhere to his right.

Nodding, she followed him toward the bench, drinking in the sight of his form, for once not having to worry about someone catching her looking.  There was something in the way he moved, something predator-like, almost dangerous, but it didn’t evoke any feelings of fear in her, far from it.  With a feline grace that was all his own, he jumped on the bench, sitting on the edge of the back rather than on the seat.  She imitated him, sitting at a reasonable distance from him, watching from the corner of her eye as he lit a cigarette, the brief flame of his lighter illuminating his features.

“Spike… there’s something I wanted to ask you…”

He tilted his face toward her, waiting, she realized, for her to ask.

“First I want to thank you,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.  “I know that you saved my life.  With your own.  That’s more than anyone ever did for me.  More than I ever thought anyone would ever do.”

As she talked, his face grew sullen, and her hopes sank to an all time low.  He took a long drag on his cigarette before flicking the stub away, and she heard him mutter something that suspiciously sounded like a curse.

“Do you… do you regret doing it?” she mumbled, confused.

Again, he turned toward her, his face now filled with surprise.

“Of course not,” he said, frowning.  “But you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“Why not?” she breathed with a quiet sigh of relief.

“Because I’m a bad, evil vampire,” he said, flashing his demon face for a split second.  “Wouldn’t want you to forget it.”

Despite his very serious voice, he had a slight grin as he said so, and she understood he was just joking.  She doubted there was even a gram of evilness in him.

“I don’t believe you are evil,” she said very softly, scooting just a bit closer to him.  “I think you are a wonderful man who cares enough about me to give up his life to save me.”

Close as she was, Manon could see a storm in the dark blue of his eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good or bad sign.

“Listen kid,” he said, almost uneasy, moving a little farther down the bench.  “I do care about you, but really you…”

“Je ne suis pas une enfant,” she interrupted him, slipping back into her native French without even realizing it.  “Et je t’aime.”

Gathering all her courage, Manon leaned toward him, determined to prove to him her proclamation that she wasn’t a kid and loved him.  And she would prove it with a kiss.

Manon had been living with Willow and Tara for two days already.  Two days during which she had completely declined to come to the Magic Box to train and declined once to patrol, claiming that she still felt weak after her near death experience.  Her excuse didn’t fool either vampire; she had been just fine up to the moment she talked to Spike about her feelings for him.  It was clear she was just trying to avoid him, avoid them both maybe.

Tara had stopped by Revello Drive, and had told Buffy that something was going on with Manon, though she refused to say what was wrong.  The Wicca was supposing that she felt lonely, being so far from her country and having no one her own age around.  Buffy had nodded, not mentioning the other reason the kid had to feel lonely and sad, and promised to stop by after sunset.

She knocked softly and heard some scrambling inside the bedroom, then the door opened, revealing a pale looking, red eyed Manon.  The young Slayer stared at her elder for a second before turning her back and going to sit on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest.  Taking the behavior as an invitation to come in, Buffy did just that, carefully closing the door behind her.  Pulling a wooden chair away from the desk, she turned it around and sat astride it, her arms resting on the back.

“He told you, didn’t he?”  Manon asked in a whisper, studying a suddenly very interesting spot on the wall behind Buffy.

“Told me you have feelings for him?”  Buffy replied gently.  “He didn’t need to.  I knew before him.  Men can be so clueless sometimes.”

A very small shiver ran through the girl’s body, and she seemed to hold the pillow a little tighter.  Without vampire’s ears, Buffy might not have understood the so quiet murmur that came next.

“Are you angry against me?”

Buffy shook her head slowly, smiling kindly at Manon.

“No, I’m not angry.  I do realize you didn’t choose to fall for him.  And I am sorry for you.  Falling in love is a wonderful thing, but sometimes it hurts so much it feels like it’s not worth it.  Believe me, I know how it hurts.  But I also know it gets better with time.”

Manon’s closed expression showed quite plainly that she doubted it would stop hurting, but she didn’t comment on that.

“What about…what about Spike?” she asked instead, hesitantly.  “Is he angry?”

Again, Buffy shook her head.  “No one is angry, Manon.  We’re just worried for you.  You can’t stay in this apartment forever.  The Scoobies are going to the Bronze tonight.  It’s a club, there’s music and dancing and lots of young people.  If you’re going to stay in Sunnydale, maybe you can find friends your own age.  Do you want to come with us?”

Buffy gave the girl a moment to think, watching as she nibbled her thumbnail absently.

“He’ll be there, won’t he?” she finally asked with a sigh.

“Yes, he will.  But no one will embarrass you in any way.  You’ll have face him eventually, you know.  And yes, it will be awkward.  But you two can be friends like you were before.  And with time it will get better, I promise.”

The girl’s features relaxed very slightly, and Buffy repressed a smile, certain that she was going to accept.  But she was surprised when she said, still very quiet, but with the barest hint of defiance in her voice.

“I tried to kiss him, you know.”

A flash of white-hot jealousy ran through Buffy, and she had the sudden urge to vamp out and shout ‘mine’.  She repressed the instinct though, promising herself a little talk with her Mate.  He hadn’t mentioned anything about a kiss.  But for Manon’s sake, she just nodded, keeping her features smooth.

“He got so scared,” Manon continued, “he fell off the bench.”

A very small, hesitant smile flickered on her lips, and Buffy grinned in return.

“Looks like you found a new weapon against vampires”, she joked, happy to see the girl’s smile get just a little bolder.  “So, will you come with us?”

Manon took a deep breath, and replied simply: “OK”.

“Good!”  Buffy exclaimed as she got to her feet.  “I’ll see you there then.”

She took a couple of steps to the door, but hesitated, frowning slightly.

“Kidding aside,” she said in a serious tone, “stakes are way more efficient than kisses against vampires.  And as a member of the ‘been there, done that’ club, I really don’t recommend you get too friendly with the undead.  Spike and I are the only ones who aren’t a threat to you.  For any other vamp, your blood is a delicacy.  Please don’t forget that.”

* * * * *

Sitting by himself at a table, Spike was sipping on a distressingly bad beer and keeping an eye on his Mate.  She was presently on the dance floor with the Harrises and the Witches, dancing to something that could barely be called music as far as he was concerned.  Still, he could watch her dance all night.  He had done it in the past.  The good thing now was that he would go home with her and not find himself alone come morning.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” a hesitant Manon asked as she sat down at the table, leaving an empty seat between them.

She had gone a little moment before to get another diet coke, and had lingered for a while with a group of teenagers who looked somewhere around her age.

“’Could ask you the same thing, Bit,” he replied with a careful smile.  “Don’t your new friends dance?”

“They do, but I have no idea how to dance to that kind of music, so I passed.”

He laughed softly.  “Can you keep a secret?”

At Manon’s puzzled nod, he continued on in a conspirator’s tone: “I can’t dance to that either.  Actually, I’d say what all these people do is bouncing up and down, not dancing.”

She gave him a true grin, and he mentally cheered.  The evening had been pretty tense so far between the two of them, each not too sure how to act toward the other.  But as his Slayer had told him earlier, they had to face each other eventually.

A boy from the group Manon had been talking with a moment before approached her and asked her to dance.  She started to refuse, protesting softly that she didn’t know how, and Spike motioned to her to go.

“Just try it, Bit.  At your age, I’m sure you can catch on to their so-called dancing pretty quickly.  Have fun.”

She relented and got to her feet, but before walking away she gave him an amused smile – second cheer.

“You know, that nickname you call me?”

“Bit?”

“Yes, that…  There’s that word in French, said the same way but with an e at the end…  Maybe you can call me something else?”

With that, she joined the kid who had asked her on the dance floor, leaving Spike perplexed.  It took him a moment to figure out what she meant, and when he did he burst out laughing, startling a couple of people who were passing by.  He definitely had to find some other name for her.

He was still chuckling when Buffy and Anya came back to the table, but he declined to explain the cause of his hilarity.  Xander shortly joined them with more refreshments and his Slayer chatted with the two humans for a while.  Spike himself kept mostly quiet, still slightly resentful about the reaction of the Scoobies a few nights before.  He had been burnt once, trying to see them all as friends, he wouldn’t make that mistake twice.  The band started playing a slow song.  Rising from his chair, Spike caught Buffy’s gaze as he offered his hand to her, and she smiled as she took it.  He wouldn’t be caught dead – or alive, or undead, whatever the case – dancing to the stuff that had been playing earlier, but slow, he could do.  And with Buffy, more than eagerly.

In the now dimmed lights, they stepped onto the dance floor, bodies, arms and hands finding immediately comfortable and familiar positions as they started to rock to the slow beat.  His forehead resting against Buffy’s, Spike could block everything out until all that was left was her.  The changing color of her eyes, her subtle and comforting scent, the softness of her skin where his fingers had slipped under her short top at the small of her back.  So much, in such a small package, and all for him.  Unhurriedly, her mouth came up to meet his, touching gently, chastely, a caress more than a kiss.  Similarly slowly and softly, his lips moved to her chin, along her jaw, traveling down her throat to the silk scarf that encircled her neck.  Nuzzling it aside, he managed to reach what she was hiding from the world, just like his own collar hid his most recent scars.  Except that these marks he licked and nibbled sensuously wouldn’t fade, they would always claim her as his.  He felt her body shiver against him, and grinned against her skin, continuing his ministrations as he felt more than heard the quietest purr rise from his Mate.

Nothing existed but the two of them, and Spike only wished this moment could last forever.  But all too soon, it ended.  Buffy tensed in his embrace, and he abandoned her neck, his head coming up to see what was troubling her.  Just as he followed her gaze, she extricated herself from his arms.  Understanding what had alarmed her, he followed her around the dancing couples to the edge of the dance floor, where Manon was standing, hugging herself, shivering, in front of the same boy she had danced with earlier, and who was now glaring at her as he wiped his bleeding nose.

“What happened?”  Buffy asked in that commanding tone of hers.

“She hit me,” the boy grunted, gesturing toward Manon.  “For no reason.  Bitch.”

Acting on instinct alone, Spike grabbed the boy’s neck, controlling the pressure of his hand to scare him without hurting.

“I think you owe an apology to the lady,” he hissed.  “For what you just called her and for whatever you did to make her hit you.”

The flailing kid stuttered what might have been an apology, but still Spike wasn’t letting go, making sure the idiot was scared enough, until Buffy’s hand gently closed on his wrist.  Giving the boy a last glare with eyes he knew were more gold than blue, he trailed after Buffy, who, an arm around Manon, was leading the girl back to their table.  He listened distractedly as the young Slayer told her elder that the jerk had been insistently laying his hands on inappropriate places as they danced despite her requests that he cease, arguing to her that, being French, she had to be used to more than innocent touches.  Manon had started to get away from him, he had tried to hold her back, and Slayer’s instincts had kicked in.

As they all sat at the table, Buffy was telling the young woman not to worry about it, and that there were stupid people in every country.  All the while, Spike was mentally cursing himself in all the languages he knew.  Not only had he insisted that she dance with that bloody idiot, but, reacting without thinking, he had just done something that amounted to defending her honor.  And by the furtive looks she was giving him every time Buffy wasn’t looking, he had just added one more item to her list of reasons to fancy him.  Just what he needed.

Hell, his unlife used to be so much easier when fighting and killing was the only interaction he had with Slayers.  Being in love wasn’t any harder than being enemies, or at least it wasn’t now, but how was he supposed to be friends with a Slayer?

* * * * *

A few days before, if Spike had defended her like this, Manon might have grown hopeful.  But now, she knew better than that.  It didn’t mean anything to him; he would have done the same for any of the others.  She just wished she could say it meant nothing to her.

Not very long after the bloodied nose incident, she had left the club with the two vampires to go patrol.  It had been Buffy’s idea, and Manon had caught Spike’s brief frown when she suggested it.  He hadn’t seemed happy at all to go patrolling with the two Slayers.  Manon herself didn’t mind so much.  She had missed him for the two days she had spent at Willow and Tara’s.  Seeing him, now that she knew for sure that she didn’t stand a chance in hell, was painful, true, but at the same time strangely nice.  For most of the evening, he had been playing along, treating her no differently than he had before he knew what she felt for him.  And then that stupid boy had ruined the night.  After that, Spike had avoided talking to her, wasn’t even looking at her.  And before they reached the closest cemetery, he had excused himself, declaring that he was going to scout demon bars and see if he could find any interesting information there.  Manon wasn’t stupid; she understood he had left so that he wouldn’t be around her.  And it hurt, just as much as when he had rejected her.  It hurt, because Buffy had said they could still be friends, and Manon had believed it, hoped it.  But it was clear now that the bleached blonde vamp didn’t care much for that idea.  He even preferred to be away from Buffy for a little while – and if two people were inseparable, it was them – rather than patrolling with both Slayers.

No, just being friends would never work.  Avoiding him completely wasn’t possible either.  That left one choice for Manon to ponder.  She had toyed with the idea a little, being around the Witches and their books as well as magical stuff had made it seem normal.  While she was alone in the apartment, she had gone through their old books, almost as a game at first, just to see if there even was something in there that would help.  To her own surprise, she had found a spell.  She hadn’t seriously considered it until now, it had just been something to occupy her mind.  But maybe it was the solution, after all.

* * * * *

“They left town, sir.”

“They what?”

“Summers didn’t go to the college, and the vampire didn’t patrol.  They left together, we have a vehicle following them and it looks like they’re going to LA.”

A dozen expletives ran through Riley’s mind, none of them the kind he would let slip where anyone could hear.  Of all times, they had to choose this night to take a little trip!

“Keep an eye on them, wherever they’re going,” he instructed the soldier.  “If the vampire is alone, and can be secured without her knowledge, remove him.  If not, we’ll wait until they come back.”

That was, of course, assuming they would come back.  If it was only up to Buffy, Riley had little doubt they would; she took her duty to protect Sunnydale very seriously.  But she was under the vampire’s thrall, so he could only hope.  Hope for the good of the mission, as well as for more personal reasons

* * * * *

When they arrived at the Hyperion, Buffy and Spike found the hotel mostly deserted, except for one of Angel’s employees, Fred, who was perusing heavy leather bound books.  Research in LA looked frighteningly similar to research in Sunnydale.  From what the girl said, the other members of Angel Investigations were out gathering information in the field.  Buffy itched to go out and help, more to delay her encounter with Dawn than for any other reason, but Spike’s slight head shaking wasn’t needed to remind her of a little incident a few months back.  She and Spike had gone out, unbidden, to help Angel, and when they had found him he had been quite… explicit about them waiting at the hotel the next time he wasn’t there when they arrived.  Vehemently explicit.

It seemed that Dawn at least was there, currently in Steven’s room – where else?  As she was leaving Spike in the office with the woman, he sat down on the edge of the desk, picked up the book and asked Fred what it was she was looking for.  She hadn’t asked for help, and he hadn’t really proposed, but he would help anyway, and that brought a small smile to Buffy’s lips as she climbed the stairs.  There had been a time when Spike had found it very amusing to annoy a person doing any kind of research, just for the sake of getting on their nerves.  And now he helped, without even being asked to.  Of course, if she pointed it out, he would claim he was just passing time, and wasn’t really helping anyway.  But she knew better.  And she would have to remind him later how wonderful she thought he was.

The door of Steven’s room was partially open, and when Buffy lightly knocked it opened further in front of her, revealing Dawn sitting at the desk, writing in what Buffy knew was her diary.  The teen’s eyes came up to her sister, the barest frown barring her forehead.

“Hey there,” Buffy said quietly.

“Hi.  I told Spike I needed a ride tomorrow, not tonight.”

Interesting start, Buffy thought wryly.  She might as well have said she didn’t want to see them.  As she came further into the room, Buffy’s gaze traveled to the drawings that graced the walls.

“Don’t worry,” she said blankly.  “We’ll stay here until tomorrow night.  You won’t be alone with the big bad vamps until then.”

Talking about big bad vamps…  One of the drawings, surrounded by a light gray wood frame, represented a woman and her child.  Darla & Connor, the inscription read.  She looked so peaceful on this drawing, almost as innocent as her baby.  Appearances could be so deceptive.

“What bad vamps?”  Dawn asked, her tone lightly teasing.  “Because, if you haven’t noticed, you and Spike are more badly whipped than big bads.”

Another drawing showed a young woman, smiling graciously, eyes sparkling.  The whole picture expressed love and tenderness.  Buffy couldn’t help grinning faintly at that, wondering when Angel had ever seen Dawn like this.  She was much more likely to scowl in his presence than smile.

“Who are you calling whipped?”  Buffy asked, pointing to the drawing.

For the first time, hazel and blue eyes met.  The mischievous light in the blue ones died pretty quick however, and Dawn let out a soft sigh.

“You want to talk?”

“Do we have something to talk about?”  Buffy replied, her voice expressionless.

The teen rolled her eyes.  “Fine,” she said with a hint of exasperation.  “Close the door behind you when you go then.”

She turned back to the desk and her diary, but Buffy didn’t leave, returning instead to her study of the pictures.  A smaller one caught her interest.  It showed Steven and opposite him Spike, both carrying swords, poised for attack and defense.

“I’ve been a vamp for three years,” Buffy said very low, a finger hovering above the small figure of her Sire on the heavy cream paper.  “It never seemed to bother you before.  So why does it upset you now?”

She heard the chair move behind her, as if Dawn had pulled it away from the desk, but she did not turn toward her sister, her eyes remaining on the drawing.

“I’m not upset,” the teen replied.  “Not anymore.  I mean, I was really… stunned.  One day, you’re a human, the next day you’re a vamp.  And you were so happy when you became human again.  And I was so happy for you too…”

Repressing a sigh, Buffy turned to face Dawn, unsurprised at finding her eyes shiny with tears.

“I am still happy, Dawn.  It’s my choice.  Being a vamp isn’t as dreadful as you seem to think.”

“But there are so many things you can’t have”, Dawn murmured.  “When you were a vamp before, it was a matter of being dead or undead, so I didn’t feel too guilty.  But this time you could have remained alive, you could have had a normal life and kids and everything.”

Buffy was about to try and explain that she would never have anything close to a normal life, not as long as she was the Slayer and Spike was in her life, but then she realized what Dawn had said, and she frowned in confusion.

“Guilty?  Why on earth would you feel guilty?”

Dawn’s gaze dropped to the floor, and Buffy came to her, placing a finger under her chin and tilting her head back up.

“Spill.”

Dawn swallowed heavily, before saying, her voice hesitating slightly:

“When you were ill… when you were at the hospital…  I went to see Spike a few times.  I told him how sick you were and that it wasn’t fair that you were dying again… that I couldn’t bear to lose you a second time…  I never really asked him to … but…  I’m pretty sure he did it at least in part for me.  Because of me.  And the night he took you away, I could have stopped him if I had wanted.  I just know he would have stopped if I had asked him to...  But I didn’t.  I knew what he was going to do and I let him take you.  I wanted him to.”

Her confession over, tears started to roll down Dawn’s cheeks.  Without thinking, Buffy kneeled in front of her, taking both her hands in hers.

“Listen to me, Dawnie”, she managed to say despite the emotion that had her shaking.  “You have nothing to feel guilty for.  Even if you had asked him to do it, you still wouldn’t be at fault.  Spike may act like a kid sometimes, but he is adult, and he makes his own choices.  And so do I.  If being a vamp was so horrible, do you think I would have willingly become one again?”

She brushed a strand of hair away from Dawn’s cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

“There are things I will never have, true,” she continued.  “But I have other things that a human cannot even imagine.  I am closer to Spike than I’ve ever been to anyone, and that means more to me than I can explain.  Do not feel sorry for me, Dawn.  Because I am not sorry.  I don’t regret being what I am, and I never did.”

Slowly, understanding made its way on Dawn’s face, and she smiled faintly through her tears.  She didn’t say a word, but pressed lightly Buffy’s hand in hers, and nodded.  These simple gestures warmed Buffy’s heart.  Everything would be OK now.

* * * * *

The apartment had so many candles that it hadn’t been hard for Manon to borrow a few of them.  Same thing for the herbs, the Witches had a supply just as complete as the Magic Box, and she had managed to take what she needed without either woman noticing.  The bedroom wasn’t big, but by moving the desk a little she had cleared enough space to form a circle of candles large enough for her to sit in.  She had memorized the words of the spell, and what herbs to burn and when.  All she needed now was to gather the courage to start.  Because once this was done, everything would be different.  But after the way Spike had talked to her tonight, things had to change.  She just hoped it would be for the best.

The extended Council, which gathered every single Watcher present in London, including Watchers in training, had been divided in small groups, each of them focusing on a particular topic under the supervision of a member of the High Council. No replacement to Quentin Travers had been designated yet, and none would until a new charter had been adopted to establish what was already called the New Council.

Andrea and Giles, because they were responsible for the turn events had taken, had been asked to go from group to group to observe the work in progress.  Giles wasn’t fooled by the maneuver, and understood that it was just a way to make sure they did not gain too much influence within one particular group.

A while before, he had seen Andrea leave the group she was supposedly observing and enter her father’s former office.  Wondering what she was doing there, and bored senseless from listening to discussions about how to recruit Watchers more effectively, Giles eventually managed to follow her.  When he entered the room, she was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the massive desk, very still and apparently so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t acknowledge his presence until he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Rupert, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said almost apologetically.

“I see that,” he replied.  “What were you thinking about so intensely, if I may ask?”

She rose from the chair and leaned against the desk, facing Giles.

“I am just wondering where my father is now,” she said quietly, a slightly worried tone in her voice.  “I wish the Council had decided to keep an eye on him.  He is very much capable of rallying the Watchers that did not witness his demise and to create a new group to work against us.  He knows so much about the Council of Watchers, he could easily destroy it if he wanted to.”

Giles nodded thoughtfully.  Andrea had expressed pretty much the same ideas three days before in front of the High Council, and so had he, but despite all that they had recently learned about him, no one had believed that the ex head watcher would go as far as to destroy what he had worked for during most of his life.  All they knew now was that Travers had left London, and they only knew that because Andrea had tried to visit him and been informed by her old nanny of his departure.

“If he does try to strike at us,” Giles said with more confidence than he really felt, “we will counter him.  His reign is over.  Do not worry yourself too much over him.”

As Andrea gave him a small smile, Giles felt suddenly compelled to clean his spotless glasses.  Not watching her directly might help for what he wanted to say next.

“I was wondering if you would like… that is, there is a very nice restaurant just a few streets away… we’ve all been working so hard for the last few days that a little quiet time…”

That didn’t quite sound like the elegant line he had practiced, but she seemed to understand the point behind the hesitations.

“I’d be glad to, Rupert.  It would be a nice change to talk of something else than work.  That is, if you want to.”

Was he imagining things or was there suddenly a little more red in her cheeks?  Of course, he was still pointlessly rubbing his glasses, so he might have been mistaken.  Replacing them on his nose, he buried his hands in his pockets and tried not to fidget too much.

“Talking would be delightful.  With you, I mean.  Of other things.  Or anything, actually.”

To his own ears, he sounded more than pathetic.  He hadn’t had so much trouble asking a woman on a first date in… never, as a matter of fact.  Not that he had done it very often, but it seemed to get even more difficult as he aged.  Shaking his head lightly, he couldn’t help chuckling a little, amused as much as annoyed by his own clumsiness.

“You must think I’m a perfect idiot,” he said self-deprecatingly.  “Here I am, a grown man, barely able to ask a lady to dinner without tripping over my own tongue.  Pitiful.”

“Idiot or pitiful are not words I would ever apply to you,” Andrea replied with an indulgent smile.  “Hesitant, maybe, or even shy, but then, in this particular domain, so am I.”

It was a strange admission, coming from the mouth of a woman who had the reputation of never being intimidated by anything or anyone.

“Things should get easier when we know each other better,” Giles said hopefully.

After all, they had really met just a few weeks earlier.  Before that, they had barely ever exchanged anything more than salutations.

“Probably”, Andrea agreed very low, and again she was slightly blushing.  “Though I wish we were already there.  This way I wouldn’t have to wonder whether you will kiss me tonight.”

For a second, Giles stared at the woman in front of him, who was watching him levelly in return, despite the redness of her cheeks and her previous claims of shyness.

“If it might help,” he said, entering her game after clearing his throat, “I can admit that I am very likely to at least try.”

“Only try?” she asked, a delicate eyebrow arching questioningly as she took a step toward him.

“Well, if I knew whether my attempt will be welcome or not…”

“Oh, it will be welcome, have no doubt.”

As she grinned, halfway between seducing and shy, Giles realized how close she was now.  So close that her perfume, a light rose fragrance, enveloped him.  So close that he could see the fast beating of her pulse point, in total contrast to her apparent calm.  The lady knew how to bluff, he thought with a touch of admiration.  But then, so could he.  He gave her his very best Ripper smirk.

“Why wait tonight then?” he whispered, and closed the distance that separated their lips.

* * * * *

Silent as a hunting tigress, Buffy walked past Steven’s room, pausing for a second to make sure no one was stirring inside.  Later, she would have time to deal with the two teens.  Steven, she thought, might do quite well as a vamp; he already knew how to fight and only needed time to be as good as Angel or Spike.  Dawn, on the other hand, with her whining and her weaknesses, would do a nice meal, but no more.  Maybe Buffy would bring her to her Sire as a snack later.

Finally, she reached Angel’s room.  There was some noise coming from inside, indicating that he was awake.  Without knocking, she opened it and slipped in, locking the door behind her.  She didn’t want to be interrupted.

As she stepped inside his room, in the small hours of the morning, clad only in a bathrobe, Angel froze where he stood next to the bed.  All he wore was a black pair of pants, and he was drying his hair with a towel.  To say that he looked startled was quite an understatement.

“Buffy?” he asked, the worry evident in his voice.  “Is something wrong?”

Unconsciously, she moistened her lips as her eyes traveled over him.  She had forgotten how yummy he looked.  So different from her yummy Spike, as different as night from day, but just as delicious to look at.  He seemed to become very self-conscious under her gaze, and stopped drying his hair, reaching instead for the gray shirt that was lying on the bed.

 “Nothing’s wrong”, she finally answered his question, a small smile playing on her lips.

Yes, something was indeed very wrong, but she would soon make it right again.  Many years before, a man called Liam had been born, certainly for no other destiny than to become a vampire and bring mayhem to the world.  And there was no denying that Angelus had been quite gifted in that regard.  A real artist of violence and murder.  Until the so sad night he had been replaced by a weakling answering to the name of Angel.  Buffy had brought back Angelus once; she very much intended to bring him back to the world again.  And then, all three of them, maybe four if she decided to turn Steven, would have the time of their unlives.

As she let her thoughts wander to the hell they would bring to Sunnydale, California, and the world in general, Buffy had come closer to Angel, and she was now close enough to reach to his half buttoned shirt and check that it was silk, as she had thought.  She chuckled as he took a step back, still looking awfully uncomfortable.

“Did you want anything?” he asked, frowning and catching her hand as it was reaching toward him again.

“Don’t we all always want something?” she purred seductively, sitting on the unmade bed without taking her eyes off him.

As she lay there on her side, she was aware that she was exposing quite a nice amount of flesh, and Angel probably had a hard time not looking at the cleavage she revealed.  It amused her slightly that his eyes, and his frown, kept being directed at her face.

“I think you need to leave,” he said in a strong tone.  “Spike will be wondering where you are.”

So, seduction wasn’t working.  Buffy was very curious to know whether he was completely over her or whether he was just wary of Spike’s reaction if he found her half naked on Angel’s bed.  She would have time to request a truthful answer from him later, but she doubted very much that all his feelings for her were gone.  Maybe it would be different after; Angelus had never had much of a human side, but it wouldn’t matter, she would be his Sire and it would be enough.

Still, if he wasn’t coming to her willingly, she would have to try something else.  Kneeling on the bed so that she was just in front of him, she locked her gaze to his, following instincts that she knew were coming straight from her demon.

“Let me in,” she cooed.  “Show me your thoughts and your dreams, let me make them true for you.”

As she started rocking slightly from side to side, Angel’s body echoed her motion, and his eyes became slightly glazed as they remained in hers.  She could have done this without his consent and without the thrall, but after all dusting vampires had no secrets for him, and she did not fancy becoming ashes because he didn’t understand fast enough that it was a gift she was offering him.  When she was sure he was in her control, she moved back on the bed, still on her knees, beckoning him to climb in front of her.

“I will give the world back to you,” she whispered.

At the same time, she trailed her fingertips on his forehead and down his cheek, caressing lightly.  He turned his head just enough for his lips to brush against her hand, and she smiled, satisfied.  He had done this on his own, without her intervention through the thrall, which had to mean that deep down, he wanted it.  He wanted her.  Still going down her fingers traveled, along his neck, past two scars so old and so faint that they were hardly noticeable.  As she reached his shirt, she undid the few buttons that were fastened and pulled on the fabric, exposing delectable looking flesh.  She could hear the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat.  He wasn’t afraid.  Why would he be, she was offering him eternity.  Even when she shifted to her game mask in front of his face, when she tilted his head, he didn’t stir, didn’t show any sign of surprise or fear, didn’t try to break through the thrall.  Only when her fangs pierced his skin did he gasp ever so slightly.  But to Buffy’s ears it was a sweet music.  She had drunk from Angel shortly after being turned, but it compared in no way to the first, very first bite she was taking off a human.  The warmth down her throat, the taste on her tongue, the beating of his heart in her ears…  She had thought before that nothing could equal drinking from her Sire, but maybe she had been wrong.  This was just glorious.  It satisfied her demon’s hunger in a way it had never been satisfied before.  Warm blood from a living human.  So much of it.  So good. She didn’t think she would ever get enough.